


t-shirt

by accio_broom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, romione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_broom/pseuds/accio_broom
Summary: Hermione gives Ron a new t-shirt for Christmas one year.  An exploration of her thoughts and feelings throughout their friendship, linked around that one piece of clothing.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 48





	t-shirt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HSP2200](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSP2200/gifts).



> This is unbeta'd and written at some awful time of night, but it was something I couldn't get out of my head until I got it written and posted. For HSP2200's birthday present! Inspired ever so loosely by the song T-Shirt by Birdy and my love for Rupert Grint's arms.

Hermione had bought Ron the t-shirt for Christmas when they were still at school.

She wasn't sure what had driven her to pick the present, but the advert for Quality Quidditch Supplies had caught her eye one day and as soon as she spotted the top, she knew it was meant for Ron.

He had been more than chuffed when he came downstairs. He already had it on, although it was hidden under his annual Weasley jumper.

Ron had never received new clothes before. Everything was a hand-me-down. Even the knitwear Molly Weasley wrapped and put at the end of the bed every Christmas was made from old jumpers and blankets that were no longer comfortable.

He wore it every day when they weren't in class, although Hermione had to remind him to leave it for the house-elves to wash every so often.

The best part about it, he had said over breakfast that Christmas morning, was that nobody else would want the t-shirt from him as he was probably the last Chudley Cannons fan standing. It was his for forever.

She realised later as they sat playing chess, Weasley jumper now discarded because of the heat from the fire, that it was too large for him. His wiry pale arms were covered to his elbow and the top skimmed just past his hips.

But it was his.

⁂

It was the summer now; hot and humid. At least two years had passed since Hermione had gifted Ron the t-shirt, flying by in a mess of lessons, exams, peril and battles. The years were mixing in with each other, fading in colour like the potions they brewed together in class.

She could not put her finger on the moment she noticed that the t-shirt was now getting too small for him. Puberty had been good to Ron and he was fast-growing from a small, soft boy to something more, especially for Hermione.

There were muscles now where there hadn't been anything before; grown from countless hours of training for Quidditch games and the material stretched across them. He wasn't big by any stretch of the imagination, but he looked good.

At some point, she had also started feeling something more than just platonic love for him. These things probably correlated in a way that felt somewhat shallow to Hermione. It all twisted back to that t-shirt — now faded from over washing, with holes along the bottom from being pulled at, stretched and worried — that brought heat to her cheeks.

Maybe it was the confidence in which he wore it; bright orange against flaming red hair. Maybe it was the pattern of freckles disappearing under the material that she just longed to explore. Or maybe it was the way the top rode up, revealing inches of his pale stomach to Hermione. In those moments the heat pooled somewhere more southerly than her cheeks, but it felt good and she longed to be back in her dormitory or somewhere alone so she could explore just what those feelings meant to her.

⁂

It was winter again, the wind howling against the canvas tent; threatening to blow them away. She wished it would and then they could be done with this damn hunt.

Hermione felt alone. Harry was there, but he was distant and distracted by his worries. Ron had left five days ago in a fit of shouting and cursing and hurt feelings.

She wasted away the time reading. And when she couldn't settle enough to concentrate, she cleaned, but without Ron around there was less mess.

It was during one of those cleaning fits that she found it, shoved right under his abandoned camp bed, balled up against the wall of the tent; a muted flame in the darkness. She had to get down onto her belly to get to it, forgetting for a moment that she was a witch, but as soon as her fingers closed around the material, she knew what it was.

It was Harry's turn to keep watch. She pulled the t-shirt over her head before climbing into her sleeping bag. The top smelled of Ron, reminding her of that moment in Slughorn's class when she almost admitted what her Amortentia smelt of. Freshly cut grass, new parchment, peppermint toothpaste, his shampoo.

Finding the top hadn't been as comforting as she had hoped it would. Although it could be a symbol that he could eventually make his way back to them, her heart yearned to have him back now. She would trade anything to know he was safe. Her thoughts wandered off to what misery he could be dealing with and that night, the nightmares had started. But she didn't take the t-shirt off.

⁂

They were in bed together, in a flat they had bought with their reward money from the Battle. Their lives were more simple now, free from war, Death Eaters and Horcrux Hunts.

It didn't take long for stolen, fleeting kisses to morph into a relationship. Hermione liked to think they would have gotten there eventually, even without the pressure of war looming over them. This is where they belonged.

She kept hold of his t-shirt, even after Ron had returned to them. It was hers now, although she didn't think she would ever be able to confess to him just how much comfort it had given her. She had passed her possession of it off as a necessity; more layers, more warmth, more chance of being able to get to sleep.

She wore it to bed most nights and sometimes it would be the only thing she would wear. The material was thin, with more holes in it than the pair of them could count (and they spent a lot of time trying). He had offered to buy her a replacement; a newer version of the same top, but it had to be this one.

Ron argued with her that it needed to go in the bin. Even for him, who lived for years in patched-up clothes, it had gotten past the point of saving. Hermione had protested and bickered back until she was forced to press her lips against his. Then his hands would slip under the t-shirt and there would be no more words.

At least not in protest of the top.

Ron would never understand, but perhaps she would tell him one day.

⁂

Eventually, the bare threads that held the t-shirt together had given up. With a growing stomach, Hermione had tried one too many times to make it fit. She had cried, although she could at least blame that on the hormones and finally told Ron exactly why she held on to a simple t-shirt for so many years.

When she was finally asleep Ron sat downstairs, carefully cutting around the faded Chudley Cannons logo. The next morning he visited his mother and pleaded with her to help him.

Luckily, Molly Weasley loved a craft project and she lovingly stitched the old scraps of the t-shirt together with years of Ron and Hermione's memories: t-shirts from holidays, old quidditch jerseys, a square cut from the material of Hermione's wedding dress long abandoned in the back of a wardrobe, the crest taken from their old school robes.

Molly had worked quickly, the excitement of new life and nimble fingers making quick work of the quilt.

When Ron finally presented it to Hermione she hadn't cried. This surprised him, as most things seemed to push her over the edge these days. Instead, she threw her arms around him, trying to get as close to him as possible although her burgeoning baby bump liked to get in the way. The baby kicked against his stomach and Ron knew he'd done the right thing.

The blanket was left folded at the bottom of the crib where their new daughter would eventually lay. Knowing that she could come and lay her fingers on the small square of orange and black brought Hermione a new sense of comfort, especially against the nerves growing steadily stronger as her due date got closer.

It was more than just a t-shirt.


End file.
